Unlikely
by Elvish Presley
Summary: The War of the Ring is over. The two dynamic friends, Legolas and Gimli, make their way home together to continue their lives in peace. It just so happens to be that Legolas has an interesting habit of making unlikely friendships with dwarves- or dwarf-like.


"Aye, my humble dwarf eyes are blessed," he nodded, "for even the smallest glance upon the fair Lady Galadriel is enough to satisfy my heart for an eternity." His powerful, grizzly, and heavily accented voice was seldom used to speak in a way that was not threatening. The edges of Legolas' lips curved into a soft smile from the unexpectedly gentle words spoken by his tough companion. The dynamic pair walked along the forest in a peaceful silence, letting the wind and the trees speak for them. Legolas listened.

Gimli, on the other hand, was less patient to hear the voice of nature; Hearing nothing, he continued the conversation. "Dwarf women are quite the contrary. Sometimes, it's hard enough to tell the difference between a brother or a sister," he spoke heartily, " I have seen no beauty as lovely as she... Ah, that is, other than Calia."

"Is she your lady?" his soft voice was riddled with surprise.

"Calia? Oh, no, laddie," he laughed, "She is quite different."

"How so?"

"I only look upon her beauty from a distance. Her face is fair and of perfect complexion, one you would never see among dwarves. Long, beautiful jet hair, darker than the deepest depths within the black sea," he said dreamily, "While her eyes are the moon among her dark sky of hair- a grey that shines bright as if her eyes were pools of tears shed by the moon itself." They continued along the woods, Gimli snapping twigs underneath him in comparison to Legolas who tread the earth as lightly as falling snow. He listened intently.

"Yet, only few dare approach her."

"Why is that?"

"She's a pointy-eared elf like yourself."

Legolas curiously glanced back at Gimli, who was battling a bush that had caught his sleeve.

"Yet, she's very much UNLIKE an elf," he admitted after freeing his arm, catching up to Legolas' pace. The elf patiently waited for his friend to continue.

"She has lived among the dwarves for centuries. Folks say that her parents found her as just a wee baby a long way from home. So they raised her as their own kin, skilled in fighting as any other dwarf on the battlefield and strong as a bull with a venomously sharp tongue that could shatter the heart of a grown man. Quite the drinker, she is, too," he added interestingly. "But no matter how well she is dwarvish, she is still an elf. She stands out like an oak among saplings! Among her movements, you can still see her figured haunted by the grace of an elvish gal. Of course, she is still loved by many, but people hate her for being of elven kind. She even developed a hatred towards her own race. I can see the grief in her eyes, even as she smiles in such a way that makes dwarf men swoon."

He listened with a soft heart, saying nothing in reply.

"Yes... Quite the devastating tale," Gimli grumbled, "If she were a bit shorter, I would have been glad to wed a lady lovely as she. Alas, I have yet to meet another maiden to love."

They reached the edge of the forest and gazed up at the sight before them. "Lonely mountain," Gimli exhaled, "I can almost taste the buckets of ale and smell the sweet scent of meat freshly cooked over the fire."

Legolas could not relate to his friend's tastes, but nevertheless was anxious to see the home of his friend.

"You wouldn't suppose we could sit down and take a breather," Gimli leaned on his knees, "Us dwarves are more of the type to have strength in arms, not legs."

Nodding to Gimli, Legolas scanned the area. The war was over, but the careful habits still remained. It would take a long before their hearts could feel completely safe again.

A few minutes passed before Gimli spoke up again. He was itching to ask. "What of yourself? Do you have a lass of your own?"

The elf turned to look at him with his bright blue eyes, a look on his face that showed his surprise from the simple question.

"You know, a love?"

"Love?" He repeated innocently. His eyes flickered away as he smiled softly, "I cannot say I have thought about it before."

Gimli let out a low grumble in thought before retorting, "Should not an elven princeling such as your self be reminded of marriage?"

His eyes became clouded as he paused before honestly replying, "I cannot seem to fathom a fate as such... but nevertheless it is a duty that should be carried out."

He watched the dark silhouette of Legolas' lean figure making its way towards the large mountain that the sun slowly but surely slipped behind.

Gimli miserably trudged towards the mountain, loathing the elve's natural ability to never tire. By nightfall, they reached the gates into the glorious home of dwarves, and Gimli's spirits were immediately renewed. The doors were intimidatingly large, but carved with such intricacy that left one breathless from feelings of both anxiety and amazement.

Though the sky was asleep, the city was wide awake. Music could be heard from the entrance: voices singing, laughing, and joking. The War of the Ring was over and the celebrations all over Middle-Earth had begun. They entered a large hall flooded with dwarves to be greeted with countless faces of beards and the smell of... vigorous celebration. Legolas was awed by the beauty of the stone columns, pondering how such impressive architecture decorating the halls could grow so accustomed to the dwarves' eyes. He watched as Gimli was welcomed a hero's return, many eyes turning to look upon the son of Gloin. He was short, but he stood tall.

Minutes later, a dwarf pushed through the crowds to welcome him proudly. His white beard was braided and he resembled Gimli more than any other dwarf in the hall. It was Gloin. "My son," he exclaimed with tears in his eyes, arms wide to heartily embrace Gimli, "You have finally returned!"

His gaze was immediately drawn to the tall figure beside him, spotting his ears. "An elf," he exclaimed horrendously, first to dare to address his presence, "Who is he? Why is he here?" The crowd quieted, murmuring and watching with hurtful gazes.

Legolas was well aware of their family history, but was an honest elf. He kneeled, bowing his head down. "Legolas, son of Thranduil," his velvet voice projected clearly with respect.

_Thranduil_. The mere mention of the name boiled his blood; Gloin clenched his fist, eyeing Legolas suspiciously before looking harshly upon his son.

"We have battled and shed blood together in the Fellowship of the Ring. The past is before him. He is my brother, I would gladly give my life for him," Gimli spoke fiercely, reassuring his father by gripping his shoulder.

"And mine for his," Legolas stood up proudly to look Gloin in the eye.

Their eyes locked in a deadly silence, Gloin studying the prince of Mirkwood carefully. He could feel the hateful eyes of many focused on him, but stood his ground patiently. Gloin hesitated for a moment before slowly picking up a cup of ale on the table.

"You have fought bravely beside my son, and I can not hold any grudge against you. You are welcome, and it would be a great honor to us, for you to stay as long as you like," Gloin confessed, raising the glass to the air, "Cheers to Legolas and Gimli, my son, for their courage and valor in battle. The war is over!"

The tension broke and the crowd cheered, once again reminded of the reason to savor life.

"Quickly! Bring our hero's piles of meat, hot and fresh off the bone!"

The party impossibly became more lively than it was before.

"Come, Legolas! Let us put some meat on that skinny body of yours!" Gimli excitedly laughed. He could not help the smile tugging at his lips, feeling truly relaxed again. A couple dwarves moved aside to welcome them to settle down at a table. A rather large, plump dwarf of questionable gender approached the table and loudly set down a excessively large plate of heaping piles of red met. Legolas was taken aback for a second, having never seen so much meat in his long life. Gimli wasted no time in grabbing the largest, juiciest piece of meat with his bare hands and sinking his teeth into it. He ate like a wolf, almost swallowing down the chunks and moving on to his second leg of mutton. Presuming there was no vegetarian, Legolas inwardly shrugged and took fork and knife in hand, neatly grabbing his piece of meat.

THUD!

It wasn't long before Gimli had engaged in another drinking game, chugging down gallons of ale to his hearts content and capacity. Legolas guessed the same outcome as before, not surprised in seeing his alcohol-stained bearded friend passed out on the floor as the party carried on beside them. This time, however, there were other dwarves sleeping comfortably beside him as well.

Legolas got up in search for an exit, anxious for a cool blast of air to rid the warm and beer-consumed air that had slowly suffocated him.

As he walked down the hall, his eyes were immediately drawn to a young woman sitting at a table, laughing with several other dwarves who were drinking their stomachs down. Even though she was sitting down, it was clear that she was taller than everyone in the room, excluding himself. Her hair was long and messy, tumbling down her shoulders. Her creamy skin contrasted against her pitch black hair. By only a glimpse, Legolas was able to quickly identify her pointed ears hiding behind her locks of hair.

Never before has he seen an elf as beautiful as she, yet clad in bulky, masculine clothing. Her eyes matched the description perfectly, and if anything, was under exaggerated. He could recognize the unmistakeable grace of an elf, but at the same time, could not recognize it at all. The way she acted was completely different: loud, expressive, and overwhelmingly strong.

Her pale eyes locked with his blue eyes. She was like the cold night sky while his light golden hair and azure eyes were like the brightness of day. For a split second there was an unreadable expression on her face as if she had never locked eyes with another elf before. Her eyes suddenly turned dark as she quickly averted his soft gaze, a stone cold expression taking her face as she frowned. He watched her as she harshly got up to walk somewhere else, feeling a subtle need to follow her.

But he could not imagine why, so instead, he continued to look for an exit.


End file.
